


Too Long

by TwoCatsTailoring



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seifer doesn't need an attitude adjustment. He needs a perspective rearrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Long

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irishais](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishais/gifts).



He took a long drag of the cigarette, black at the tar it was injecting into his lungs, and blew out the smoke after letting it settle deep in his chest first. It was a shit habit. He knew it and he knew that she knew it too, because even though she wasn’t saying anything about the cloud over the table her posture, prim little line of her mouth, and that tilt of her head were clear enough.

That was the ‘mommy Quisty is not impressed’ look, and he’d seen it enough to be intimately familiar with it. And to not give two shits what she thought of his personal habits. Or at least put up a good show of not giving a shit.

Because they were at this table by accident, the cafe in Dollet being crowded during the lunch hour and she the only person who was not intimidated by the perpetual scowl he wore and did not opt to stand for their lunch instead of ask to occupy the only open chair in the room.

She hadn’t asked either, just placed herself in the chair, smoothing her skirt over her knees as she spread her paper napkin out with care, eyeing him with a smug look of her own. 

“How have you been, Siefer?” Was there nothing about her that wasn’t prissy? 

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing, I suppose.” Like she was actually taken aback at all. 

_Quit acting_ , he thought to himself. “Caring all of a sudden?” he asked out loud around another cloud of smoke.

Her head cocked the other direction now, that tilt of an adult to a child in his eyes and her tone. Patronizing. “We did grow up together.”

Yeah, he knew that. Remembered pieces of it now and remembered well enough that she was the killjoy. She sipped at her drink and he snorted, an ugly sound that sent the smoke burning out of his nose instead of floating out from between his lips.

“Like that matters.”

“Doesn’t it?”

She was infuriating. And he wanted to punch her already, that idiotic maternal I-know-best routine grating on every last nerve he had. A snarl pulled down the corners of his mouth even farther.

“Not to me.”

That line of her mouth tightened now. Prim little smile replaced by white dots of tension at the edge of her mouth and he smiled, satisfied that the shot had told. Her cup clinked gently back in to the saucer and she leaned forward just an inch, eyes narrow and hard.

“Fine.” The word fell like lead into his stomach and wiped the smirk off his face. “If you want to be miserable all by yourself and not  _try_ , fine. It has been five years and we’ve all tried, Seifer. But you are keeping  _yourself_ angry and hurt.”

Her cheeks had gone that unattractive red that she got when she was really angry and holding it in. Or really sad and trying to not cry or scream or something equally unladylike. He would have laughed, just like when they were kids or she was his teacher, but he didn’t.

Because she was right. Five years, and they’d all tried. Selphie, Irvine, even Zell had attempted civility the could of times they’d met. Even Squall had him pardoned by every government when he hadn’t asked for it. 

He scoffed again and looked away, drag long and deep this time so that he  didn’t have to reply.

Not that she would let him. “But I’m done. I’m not going to feed this stupidity anymore.” She rose, leaving her cup and barely touched food behind and joining the line to pay. 

But in the way of these things, in the real world where people didn’t get the exits they were looking for, the line was too long, the cafe too busy, the cashier too new and so she could not depart that easily. And that meant that he couldn’t just not look at her either. 

So he did. Angry and hurt, just like she said. Something really raw exposed to the wind making him even more angry first, then when that got too tiring, just the hurt stayed.

And hurt is one thing and one thing only. It is honest. She was right. He was wrong. They’d all tried, each in their own way, to reconnect with him. He’d been the one to shove them all away. He’d been the one who was rude, hateful, bitter.

He crushed out his cigarette on the floor, grinding it under his boot as he stood up, flinging his crimson windbreaker around his shoulders and making the walk to where she was finally the third person in line to pay. 

Pride is rancid. Foul and underdone, sticking to everything from throat to lungs to brain. Clinging, desperate and clawing for control. 

“You’re right,” it comes out like an accusation and is too harsh. And that reawakens anger in him and he huffs, petulant and peevish with pride pushed aside now because he’s fucking up everything again. “I’m a filthy motherfucker and I should be ashamed of myself.”

And now it sounds rehearsed and sarcastic at the same time. She’s never going to believe him and he shifts his weight, like the teenager he once was, fed up with everyone else being dumb and wasting his time.

And she’s just staring at him, still pink in the face, her mouth still a hard line but not a frown. Finally, as he’s actually thinking about giving up and juist walking out himself, she sighs her best Instructor Trepe sigh and holds out one hand to him. “Apology accepted.”

And she presses her bill into his hand, and he takes it, not knowing what it is. Then she turns on her hell and leaves. 

“Hey!” He calls and she glances back as he frowns with every inch of his face and somehow likes her a little better for the trick. “You owe me one for this!”

And she smiles. Laughs, rolls her eyes. And is out the door.


End file.
